


just come on home

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, I Don't Even Know, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Throbb Christmas Week, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, past THAT OTHER SHIP but it's really hinted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Theon isn't looking forward to spending the holidays on his own.
He might be wrong about that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> aaaand throbb christmas week fic number three! (i know I'm late I'll catch up.) er, idek what this is, I just know I was looking at the prompts and listening to what few christmas songs I have and [christmas tv]() by slow club happened and I realized it was REALLY FITTING FOR THOSE TWO and I had the idea and anyway here you go idek what I was doing but listening to that song probably improves the reading experience 100%. the title is from the aforementioned song, nothing belongs to me still and if it wasn't clear I have issues with writing *proper* christmas fluff this week. the prompts this time were **heartbeat** , **mistletoe** and **the perfect present** HEY THEY ALL WORKED I COULDN'T DECIDE.
> 
> (ps: there's past theon/ramsay implied in this but since I realized that tagging it casually in the tags STILL makes it show up in the thramsay tag and they probably don't want to scroll through my unrepentant fluff I didn't put it in there but like, be warned. that said it's referenced a couple times in a couple lines and then we're out of it as usual so. just figured I'd warn.xD

He should have asked Robb to stay.

 

Too bad that it’s too late now.

 

Thing is, Theon _knows_ Robb would have said yes. He knows he wouldn’t have taken it as some kind of chore. But –

 

But Robb’s been camping at his place for six months, since he was discharged from the hospital with a restraining order on his ex and doesn’t Theon wish he _never_ met the guy, and he hasn’t gone back to Dublin for his parents’ anniversary or Arya’s birthday or Halloween as he usually does. He never showed signs of resenting Theon for missing all of that, which at least was encouraging, but when Robb asked him if he was fine spending the holidays on his own – he just couldn’t say _no_. After all, it’s barely a week and a half. It’s been half a year. He dumped that bastard and left before it got _too_ bad, though it was bad enough that Robb had to pretty much move in in every way that wasn’t nominal. Sure as fuck he _could_ handle it, or so he thought.

 

Robb hadn’t pressed – bless him for not treating Theon any differently and not second-guessing him all the time on account of whatever it is that makes everyone else his knows bar his sister second-guess him all the time. Then again, Asha doesn’t even second-guess, Asha assumes and doesn’t ask in the first place. But she’s dead-on all of the time and he has more pressing worries than denying it to himself in order to antagonize her on principle, so she doesn’t count.

 

So he had gone back home, packed his bags, dropped by a last time to say goodbye and swear to hell and back that he’s been too busy to buy presents but he’ll bring one from Dublin or it wouldn’t be _Christmas_ and then he left for the airport.

 

It’s been six hours and Theon feels like utter fucking shit.

 

Now, it’s fairly sad that he doesn’t have options when it comes to calling someone that aren’t Robb or Asha, but then again six months with the aforementioned ex-boyfriend during which he makes sure you end up isolated from most people you know casually will kill your social life and he’s not too keen on trying to reconnect with anyone he was sort of friends with _before_ Ramsay Bolton. If he were _them_ , he’d close the phone call in his own face. Anyway, Robb’s going back home and Asha is with the rest of the family, because _one of them should be_ and sure as fuck it’s better that _she_ is there. At least she gets along with most of them, their father first and foremost, and the other relatives she dislikes don’t go around asking _her_ personal questions. So she’s out of the picture.

 

Which means that he’s on his own, in an apartment he has more or less shared with someone else five days out of seven every week for six months and feels fairly fucking empty because of that now, and that’s not even the worst thing about it.

 

The only upside is that since he’s never been that big on Christmas spirit and Robb can exhaust all of his own with his family the house survived the festivities and other than Robb having changed the sofa’s cover with a red one and his alcohol-designated cupboard being restocked with eggnog, there’s nothing suggesting anything’s changed. Okay, there’s also the lone poinsettia that was delivered to his door with a note from his uncle Rodrik, who sends him and Asha one each year (and only _them_ out of the Greyjoy side of the family), which is currently on the living room’s windowsill, but that’s about it. At least he’s not _reminded_ that it’s supposed to be a fucking joyful and merry time for everyone to be had just by looking at his walls.

 

Too bad that he thought he’d take a walk and distract himself.

 

Yeah, as if. His entire building, for one, is sporting red banners in the entrance, and there’s a Christmas tree in the small common yard – Theon isn’t looking forward to paying for the electricity bill when it comes, but he doubts he can get out of it. Outside, his street is filled with Christmas lights. Every fucking store seems to have them on, and if doesn’t there’s some iteration of Santa in the window. Sadly, he lives in an area full of shops, which means that he spends one hour out and runs into an inhumane number of happy families with children buying gifts and laughing – fuck, great, because he totally needs to be reminded every year of how _adjusted families_ work. Sure as fuck his own father never did anything of the kind.

 

Anyway, he had tried going inside a few shops just to get away from the noise but even the emptiest small bookstore has to have bloody Christmas music in the background – at least Robb always agreed with him that Christmas songs are the most ridiculous shit in existence. At the fourth place blasting _Jingle Bells_ he had headed straight home and only stopped by the first supermarket he found so that he could buy himself something to eat, since his fridge is empty.

 

The cashers were all wearing fake antlers.

 

He’s _never_ going into this particular supermarket again, he had decided as he hurried out and went back home.

 

His apartment is blissfully silent when he finally locks the door, but –

 

It’s fucking empty.

 

He hadn’t known how much Robb being always around had made a difference. Like this, everything looks duller and _sadder_ somehow. He thinks about the downstairs neighbors that he met while coming upstairs – married for three years, a two-year old and another on the way, and feels a pang of envy. They’re going to spend the holidays together being horribly mushy, probably, with their kid who looks out of some ad (definitely more than Theon did at his age, anyway), exchanging gifts and eating a nice large dinner while he’s going to cook something decent just because he likes to eat well but he’ll eat it alone in front of the fucking television. Yeah. What a prospect. As he walks past his room, he glances at the second drawer on his nightstand – it’s where he put the only meager present he bothered to get this year that wasn’t Asha’s usual pricey whiskey.

 

Not that he thinks Robb couldn’t live without the aforementioned present, which is why he _hadn’t_ given it to him before he left. It can wait. It’s not even _bought_ , but – well, when Robb first showed up on his doorstep with a backpack full of clothes telling him he was moving in just in case Theon needed anything, he hadn’t bothered to bring any books or the likes. So he had ended up going through Theon’s shelves and Theon _did_ notice that he’s gone through his old copy of _Cat’s Cradle_ more than once. And – well, in between getting back to work and trying to get over Ramsay and sleeping badly for months he had completely forgotten about presents and couldn’t come up with anything better, so he just bought some nice wrapping paper, put the book inside it and made a gift out of it. He can always get a new one and Robb seemed to dig his edition since it’s not like he bought it for himself at any point between borrowing it and now.

 

He feels like he’s completely half-assing this, and Robb honestly deserved a better gift, but considering that Theon spent an hour hoping he’d miss his flight – yeah, he’s not being an upstanding friend here.

 

Maybe he really should have told Robb the truth and said that he’d have preferred it if he stayed.

 

But he really doesn’t want Robb to miss out on seeing his family, and he hadn’t accepted when Robb asked him if he wanted to come with only because he knew he’d feel even worse about things – one thing is _seeing_ strangers celebrating, another is _living it_ and he didn’t want to be a downer.

 

He shakes his head and goes to the kitchen – he might as well finish off his pathetic Christmas Eve with a decent dinner so he can at least salvage the day. He spends the next hour or so making the mincemeat pudding his mother used to cook during the holidays before she got too sick to, because after all if he has to feel pathetic he might as well go the whole way and grabs one of his bottles of eggnog because _at least_ he’s going to get properly drunk, and maybe if he does that right he’ll manage to pass out and sleep through the night without waking up drenched in cold sweat.

 

Well then, he thinks, no reason to postpone. He thought he could call Robb and ask how the trip was, he must be home by now, but he’s not sure he’s mentally ready to hear a bunch of cheerful noise in the background, and so he didn’t. He hasn’t looked at his phone in hours, truth to be told, but no one’s going to call, so… no point in bothering.

 

He sets the table in the living room – he still has manners when eating, damn it, and he’s _not_ going to eat in the fucking kitchen – and then makes his way back to the kitchen to take his food.

 

Then someone rings his doorbell.

 

For a moment he panics – who the fuck would ring at the doorbell at eight PM on December 24th? Well, _Ramsay Bolton_ would be an answer, but given that his bloody father forced him to quickly reach the other side of the family in fucking New Zealand or something when he realized Theon asked for a restraining order, Theon doubts it’s the case. Ramsay was fucking insane, but not insane enough to go against his father’s direct wishes when said father is his only source of income.

 

He approaches the door cautiously and glances out of the peephole – hopefully it’s some kid who wants to leave him flyers or something of the kind, and he’ll take them because he wouldn’t want to be the poor bastard having to work on Christmas Eve.

 

Then he sees who’s outside.

 

“ _Robb_?” He blurts out as he opens the door at once.

 

“Hey,” Robb replies, sounding absolutely cheerful even if his face is red from the cold and he looks dead tired. He’s dragging his suitcase and backpack with and there’s snow melting on his coat – the hell. Theon hadn’t even realized it started, but it must have in the previous hour or so.

 

“What – shouldn’t you be in _Ireland_?”

 

“Well, _yes_ ,” Robb replies sheepishly, “but – my flight was canceled. Apparently there was something wrong with the engine and they wouldn’t let us leave, and they said I could get another one if I waited until two in the morning. I _could_ have waited, but – I felt like shit knowing you’d spend the holidays on your own in the first place and so I figured it was some sign of destiny.”

 

“Wait, so – you aren’t going?”

 

“Nah,” Robb shrugs. “I’ll go after the holidays for a week or so. I’ll find less of a rush anyway. So, can I –”

  
“Oh. Sure, just – go in already.”

 

Robb smirks and walks back inside as if he owns the damned place

 

( _and he might as well_ , a little voice that Theon desperately tries to ignore tells him)

 

and takes off his coat.

 

“Shit, it’s cold outside – wait, do I smell pudding?”

 

“Uh. Yeah, I –”

 

“You _can_ tell me you cooked it, I’m not gonna take it as a slight on your manliness. Never mind that I don’t get why the hell you have to pretend you aren’t good at it. You know how much I’d like to be able to cook better than _passably well_?”

 

“Oh, shut up already and let me grab some more cutlery. You can make yourself useful and bring the food in, won’t you?”

 

Robb goes without missing a beat and Theon sets a place for him as well, and patience if his hands are shaking – at least he doesn’t drop the plates.

 

Thing is – Robb doesn’t seem at all disappointed, damn it. Which makes no sense because he had been fucking looking forward to seeing his relatives again after half a year of barely seeing them if they came down to London and not the contrary. He decides to address the problem later as he makes the pudding portions. The fact that when Theon pushes Robb’s plate in front of him Robb lets out a sound that _really_ edges this close to pornographic (to his ears) entirely doesn’t help with how Theon’s feeling right now, as in – well, he doesn’t know how to put it into words but he does _not_ need Robb to be a distraction in that sense. He’s been resigned for _years_ when it comes to Robb being hopelessly straight, he doesn’t need a reminder of the fact that he’s been harboring fucking dumb feelings for him for years by now.

 

And he’s probably off his game because he’s barely eaten two forkfuls when Robb starts looking at him as if he’s – worried.

 

“Hey,” he asks, “are you all right?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Theon blurts out, “it’s just – for having missed a trip you talked about for a _month_ , you look fairly cheerful.”

 

He doesn’t know what he expects.

 

Certainly, not for Robb to swallow his forkful of food and _stare_ at him before his lips curl up in a small, nervous smile. “Maybe,” he says, “maybe I liked the alternative best.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Maybe,” Robb goes on, “you should get into your thick skull that if my alternative was spending Christmas with _you_ , I’m not making a huge sacrifice or anything.”

 

Theon admittedly must look ridiculous – he has his fork up in mid-air and he can’t fucking put it down because he’s petrified and this is _not_ what he had thought Robb would reply. On his side, Robb seems sure of it, so why does he look _slightly_ nervous?

 

“Never mind,” he says, “that the universe probably wanted to give me a nudge.”

 

“A nudge?”

 

“I lied, I actually have had your present for a while. I just – didn’t know how to give it to you, so I figured I’d find some time to think about it in Dublin. Since it wasn’t meant to be, maybe it’s time I go for it.”

 

“Robb, the hell did you get me that would get you so worked up?”

 

“I – ah, well, I didn’t quite _get_ you anything. Just eat that pudding or _don’t_ , but I need your hands free.”

 

Theon swallows the pudding and puts the fork on the plate before turning back to look at Robb.

 

“Robb, what –“

“Can you stand up?”

 

Theon does, not having a fucking clue of what’s going on.

 

“Great. Uhm, I swear this is the last weird thing I ask you, but can you close your eyes?”

 

“… Okay, but you’re getting weirder.”

 

He does, close his eyes, and he doesn’t know what to expect. He hears Robb rummaging in his bag and come back towards him, and then he hears some noise he can’t quite pinpoint and suppresses a shudder – damn, it’s _cold_ – before Robb is standing really close to him. Closer than before.

 

“Okay,” he says. “Er, open your eyes. And look up.”

 

Theon does, and –

 

Okay. There’s mistletoe attached to the wall just above his head.

 

“ _What_?” He asks, hoping he doesn’t sound panicked.

 

“What does _that_ mean, according to you?” Robb asks. He’s still smiling, nervous but _hopeful_ , and –

 

“Wait, you want us to – you want us _to_ –”

 

“ _Do_ you?” Robb replies, his voice barely audible and his fingers cradling Theon’s neck a moment later. “I mean – can I? I wouldn’t presume –”

 

Theon doesn’t want to know if he read this right or wrong.

 

What he knows for sure is that he leaned down and kissed Robb before Robb could do anything about it, and then Robb’s hands are in his hair and their mouths are slotting against each other and it’s the kind of slow, sweet kiss that Theon’s probably never given anyone else in his life, or if he’s done it, well, it was long ago. He’s not quite sure he hasn’t passed out on the sofa and isn’t dreaming all of this, which is highly probable given that he never quite dared hope in this sense, but –

 

Robb’s kissing him like he _means_ it, his fingers are carding through Theon’s hair slow and steady and comforting the way it was when he used to do it in front of the tv when he just moved in and Theon would end up with his head on Robb’s thigh.

 

“What was that?” Theon asks softly, almost afraid he’ll ruin it.

 

“Your Christmas present. If you want it,” Robb replies, but now he doesn’t sound nervous anymore.

 

_Suddenly_ , that feeling of coldness that had taken residence down in Theon’s bones and had stayed there for a long while – since maybe _before_ Ramsay, truth to be told – and he feels as if it’s never been there, which sounds ridiculous and cheesy and not at all like something Theon would say out loud. But then –

 

“I’ve wanted it for a hell of a long time,” he whispers.

 

“What a coincidence,” Robb replies, his hands moving to Theon’s cheeks. “ _So did I_ ,” he whispers in Theon’s ear before moving back and kissing him again, and _again_ , and Theon stops wondering what happened to Robb being impossibly straight and kisses back.

 

\--

 

“I guess then it’s only fair you get yours _now_ ,” Theon tells Robb some thirty minutes later – he had to go to the bathroom and left Robb to finish the dishes, and then he grabbed the small package with Robb’s gift in it on his way to the living room. Robb has kicked off his shoes and is taking up all of the space on the currently red sofa, but there’s also plenty of space for _him_ to lay on if he so chooses.

 

“Not as good as yours, probably, but –”

 

“Theon, shut up,” Robb says, and tears the paper open.

 

His eyes go very wide when he sees what’s inside.

 

“But that’s yours,” Robb protests.

 

“I _know_.”

 

“Wasn’t that from your uncle –”

 

“Robb, I’m touched that you remember that it was one of the few birthday gifts I got from any relative, but really, you’ve read it like five times. I’ve read it _once_. I can survive without _that_.”

 

_Without you, on the other side, it would be way harder,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. Robb runs through the pages as if he hasn’t read it already, and he looks – Theon doesn’t know what is making him so emotional, it’s just a cheap paperback that wouldn’t be worth five quid these days, but when he closes the book and motions for Theon to lie down, Theon does with a certain caution. He doesn’t know what to expect, not when he’s never really been one for relationships where you share the same couch when it came to more or less steady partners.

 

Robb raises an arm.

 

Theon doesn’t think twice before moving closer so that they’re pressed up against each other and Robb can move that arm and drag it across his hip. He can feel Robb’s heartbeat now, a soft regular sound that’s maybe slightly faster than it should be, but again the way Robb’s looking at him makes him forget about it. He has large blue eyes staring at his, Robb smirking like he’s got Theon exactly where he wants him and his mouth is curled up in such a nice, open smile that Theon can’t help smiling back without even thinking about it twice.

 

“There it is,” Robb whispers.

 

“What?”

  
“If I had known _this_ was what it’d take to get you to crack a smile I’d have done that a long time ago.”

 

And – fuck, Robb’s right, he doesn’t do this often but then again he rarely has reasons to. But now – _now_ –

 

“Then you’d have had to buy me a real present,” Theon retorts, and Robb just laughs as his head inchest closer to Theon’s.

 

“Why, wasn’t this one to your satisfaction?”

 

Theon shakes his head minutely. “No,” he says quietly. “No, you couldn’t have picked a better one.”

 

“Good,” Robb says,” because I could say the exact same to you.”

 

His grin is so blinding Theon _has_ to kiss him again before his heart bursts or something – he doesn’t need to check his own heartbeat to know it’s gone off the roof.

 

\--

 

Theon’s never been the biggest Christmas aficionado in existence. Right now, though – Robb has fallen asleep on the sofa still grabbing Theon around waist even if they switched positions, so now can see the flakes falling against his windows. Theon has his face in the crook of Robb’s neck, mostly, so he can feel his pulse thumping steady and slow. They’re both so warm he doesn’t think he could move if he tried and the eggnog they had earlier is making him feel pleasurably buzzed but nowhere near drunk. He moves a hand along Robb’s back and Robb moves closer, his arms grabbing at him tighter –

 

He falls asleep as he listens to Robb’s steady, soft pulse and for the first time in years, Theon thinks that maybe he could get behind this whole Christmas spirit bullshit, if _this_ is what it means to experience the good side of it. Even if he’s never going to tell Robb _that_ out loud.

 

Not that it’d fool anyone – given how well Robb knows him, he might figure that out himself first, and after all Theon wouldn’t want it any other way.

 

 

End.


End file.
